Fallout: Forgotton Lands - Chapter Three Childhood Fears
by thetrueCrystalvixen
Summary: Amb's is learning in this world and getting a bit nervous from the mutated animals. She journey's with Lexie and Vince on her way her Pip-Boy points... for some reason.


**Chapter Three: **Childhood fears.

_"Beatles? You're afraid of Beatles?"_

_"Beatles! Crawled into my bed and skittered all over me when I was a wee nipper!"_

Mechanics.

When I was learning how to repair something in Twenty-Four, the teacher was quiet rude and not at all helpful. Of course, all sorts of skills were required to be taught from a young age to find what we could do and focus on that. I was only 12 at the time, but I clearly remember my teacher, Mrs. Smiyth yelling at me because I had not assembled the practice set of a pipe-network during class.

I had cried and been so sad that I was useless.

Years later, I realized that she was not at all supportive and was seriously a terrible teacher. The only reason why she had the job was because she showed finesse with repair and maintenance; however she had terrible Parkinson's disease and couldn't work in maintenance for several years. I felt sorry for her, but nothing excused her mistreatment of a child in need of help.

Now I was glad that I had a compliant, willing, albeit temporary teacher.

I twisted the screw carefully; turning it into the hole and grinned as the now rust free Shot-gun almost sparkled in the light of the sun from the slanted window. Well almost, considering the very sky looked kind of poisonous. Compared to what I had seen in books, and pre-war films, the air almost seemed filtered through a toxic breath of radiation and the sky was pushed through a foul tinted filter covering the world.

Shaking that ludicrous thought from my mind, I smiled and showed my attempt to Vince. "So like this?"

He took the shot-gun, looking it over; breech, stock and barrel. Humming as he tightened one of the screws and smiled handing it back. "Good job, make sure you keep it clean."

With my own grin, I continued helping him change, assemble and clean the remaining weapons. "Good thing you had the right tools for the job." I chuckled, sliding the shot-gun into a harness that I found in one of the footlockers; that had been spared from the pile of bodies it had been buried in.

"Yup, always take my tools everywhere I go." he nodded, modifying the scope on the sniper rifle with the parts from the second sniper rifle to make one half-way-decent. From the group of weapons that had been; two knives, two sniper rifles, three shot-guns, over half a dozen pistols, several cricket bats, a magnum, two flame-throwers, two crowbars, one SMG and a chainsaw. Ended up becoming two knives, one crowbar, one sniper-rifle, one shot-gun, two pistols, 1 bat, 1 magnum, one flame thrower, 1 SMG and 1 Chainsaw.

A little treasure trove of opportunity.

While I was out, I found out that Vince and the children had indeed collected all of the ammo, barding, supplies and salvageable items in the day-care, Vincent had gone so far to even collect any data off the terminals around the building and collected it on his Pip-Boy- which he said he had transferred over to mine In case I wanted something to read; since he had noticed me downloading Mrs. Kross's entries.

After that was when Vince and Tunie had decided to help me learn more about weapon maintenance and how to manage weapon weight. Which was arduous and I kept getting grease on my face. However, several hours later it became absurd to stay around the stench of rotting bodies, as unbearable as it was, I asked Vince to help me move the bodies outside. He argued with me, saying that over time that animals and bugs would take care of them. I argued back that everyone deserved a proper burial. He conceded with a grumble that was true.

I admit I had a bit of help from a magazine, _'701 things to repair with Wonderglue' _that I had found in an old desk in the Childcare centre. Along with a second magazine surprisingly called '_Crackers hearing'. _At first I thought the second one was about drugs or an improper racial slur. Turned out it was a pun on Lockpicking. I had decided to thumb through it later, after all magazines didn't disappear after being read once.

Because that would be really insane and completely stupid.

Even if it was unceremonious; Vince and I used old sheets and a partial rusted wheel barrow to move all the bodies outside to a growing pile. Which we realized, or I did, that it would be impossible to bury them all, cringing, we lay out the bodies in a vaulted pile and lit them on fire.

Standing before the bodies I was surprised when Vincent stepped beside me whispering softly. "All these men and woman were not evil. Some changed over hardships; they became less human, monsters on Earth. Good may turn to evil, but evil can be redeemed. Through death, repentance, or forever paying for past sins, evil dies in all ends."

Giving Vincent a look I smiled, seeing that this man had a kinder soul than I thought.

It late in the day, at least an hour or so past dusk, we all agreed that hanging around the Day-care was depressing and we needed to move on.

Before we left I retrieved my duffel back and excess junk and queried to Tuni did they look in that pen out back and free the captives. She replied that they had been mannequins that had been covered with skin and blood. The movement had been Radroaches duck taped against the mannequins with their legs waving frantically against the clothing covering. Oddly they seemed tame- that was before the kids stomped their heads in.

The best idea had been to ignore that fact and be glad to know that the raiders had hidden their medicals supplies, spare ammunition and expensive junk among pretend captives. Though I thought it was a genius idea, if it was just mannequins wearing hats…

While we continued south the kids decided that they wanted to go directly where they needed to go, and mentioned something about picking up the weapons they dumped before the Red Belly's caught them. Smart kids. A lot smarter than I was at that age.

Of course they insisted that I keep the weapons I had gotten from the Red Belly raiders, as payment or something ridiculous. Even after all we had been through, the only two who stayed with me as I were Vincent with his cocky smile and the odd little aboriginal boy Lexie who had not said a word to me since I laid eyes on him.

I watched the small group, not one old enough to even get a Pip-Boy, walk out into the waste full of monsters, marauders and all sorts of weird shit towards their home. I really hoped that they made it home. I wasn't exceptionally smart, but I could plainly see that these kids were orphans. Why else would they be alone in a horrible place such as the wasteland? When I realized this; Vincent had caught me staring sadly at the girls and boys; and nodded with a knowing look.

The kids finally left my eyesight and out of range of my Pip-Boy's Friend or Foe tracker. Keeping my eyes on my Pip-Boy to distract myself, I sighed and selected the entry marked 'Orana-Avenue medical'

Entries of one Mr. John Cartelson-

**_Entry 3: _**

_The children are restless; Max has been especially skittish whenever someone touches his companion dog Mr. Patches'. I think the dog is odd, I know for a fact that the dog is over twenty-years old and still has the vigor of a 2 year old puppy._

_Wound:__ Scratched knee and elbows, Max fell over, running after Mr. Patches._

_Fixed:__ Band-Aids, a kiss on her 'owies', a lollipop and a reminder that running was only for grass._

**_Entry 4: _**

_Mr. Young came in today, complaining that his granddaughter has been oppressed by learning here, that there are wrong children here. I explained to him that all children in our day-care centre were Australian born and wouldn't even know the concept of war. He just got very aggravated saying that Sun lovers would end us all. He withdrew his granddaughter late this afternoon, squawking about his dead daughter and son-in-law. He couldn't blame this on several of the Australian-Japanese descent children could he?_

_Wound:__ Shallow gash across cheek. Other than my pride and sense of responsibility; Mr. Young's car scattered some gravel that injured Mrs. Kross._

_Fix:__ Benadine and a band aid, Mrs. Kross opted for a serving of pudding instead of the lollipop._

**_Entry 5: _**

_Found Blake feeding toy money into the employee break room Soft-drink machine again, I know he knows the money isn't real, but he does it to get sympathy for someone to buy him a soft-drink. Which I did as a child too._

_Wound:__ Slight bump from slipping into Rosemans soft drink machine._

_Fix:__ A band aid, a kiss on his head and a lollipop on the promise he stopped lock picking doors. _

I rubbed my eyes; what kind of dog lived that long? And what kind of rube would purposely let propaganda in a day-care? Shaking my head I huffed; taking out a Rosemans-Lemonade taking a swig as I walked. As I put the bottle cap into my bag; to recap the bottle later, I realized that I had an absurd amount of bottle caps in my bag.

"Hey Vincent, why are there so many caps in my bag? Planning to start a collection or something?" I smiled, then saw Lexie giggle in his odd way, tugging on Vincent's sleeve.

With a wry smile my brown haired companion gave me a wink, "Don't you know? That's the currency of the waste. Drinks or Stim-Packs work well as a currency too." Lexie tugged his sleeve, he looked down and watched the boy suck on something imaginary, pull it away and breathe out. "Yes, and smokes too."

I frowned, "So, a system based on a good that inevitably must be very heavy at some point due to the fact of being made out of metal, and makes soft-drink bottles near useless without a stopper or cap to hold liquid on other occasions. That's a bit stupid."

Both of my male companions laughed, I just frowned at them, considering I was pointing out the obvious and the stupid, I guess laughing was their only option.

"It's funny when a Vaultie has no idea about life outside their home." Vincent chuckled, as he wiped his tearing eyes. Hm, maybe his eyes weren't all cybernetic like I had first thought.

I pouted as we backtracked past the bridge where I had been saved by MD earlier in the day; travelling several hundred metres until we came to a road that was blocked by the twisted wreckage of several truck and cars. Remarkably all the trucks were still attached to their rigs, which had melted and in no way would be easy to move or get through. I looked to my companions, realizing that they had both started to walk along the left side of the build up and down an unblocked road.

"If we take this road, then a left after a few hundred metres, we can double back and stay somewhere safe." Vincent called back over his shoulder.

I jogged to catch up to him and frowned at his mannerism. "Did anyone ever tell you it is quite rude to walk away from someone, let alone a lady?"

Without turning his head Vincent shrugged. "If I see one, tell her I said 'hey'." a grin spread across his lips, "Yes, I know you are a lady, but you are just a kid Amb's."

I blinked.

Of course he didn't realize my age. He, like many in my life had thought that I am much younger than what I was because of my looks and physique. Smiling, I kept my opinion to myself. I was about to ask how he knew the area so well when I felt something warm move into my hand. A shiver went down my spine, my legs bent to jump away; I looked down and saw Lexie looking up at me with a big smile. Relaxing my muscles, I smiled back at the boy, squeezing his hand.

As we walked, Vincent pointed out various buildings in the area, what he knew about their history and if there was anything there to see.

"That there is an old fuel station," he explained, pointing to a squat building surrounded by a sea of cracked cement covered in dead weeds. "Before the war prices for about a litre reached up to twelve-hundred dollars."

I nodded, "That was why various countries across the world invested in nuclear energy right?" I asked. Recalling what little I knew of pre-war economics and energy supplies.

Giving me a pat on the head Vincent smiled, "Yep. Practically all nations that were already invested in nuclear furthered its development; from power-plants, cars and even toasters."

That stopped me right in the middle of the street. "Toasters?" he nodded, "Make-your-bread-nice-and-crispy toasters?" Lexie let out a snicker and swung my arm between us, eager to move again. "Pre-war people, what were they thinking?" I sighed, looking at Vincent with an incredulous demeanor. "You are joking, right?"

He gave me a shrug and continued on, whistling a merry tune.

That man would be the death of me.

Sighing, I continued after him, with Lexie at my side we followed our fearless tour guide onto a road and took a right that would lead back to where the wreckage had blocked off our destination Or at least our current one.

As we walked, I noticed a scattering of weathered letters at my feet. Bending down, I inspected several; noticing that they were all chewed and some were partially pulpy around the edges. If it had been water, the envelopes would have been wavy after drying. Pondering this, I glanced at a red post box, not understanding why the design was changed before the Great War. Or how a post box of all things would survive.

I stretched my body as I stood up, meaning to continue with my patient companions, but stopped as movement in my peripheral vision distracted me. On this side of the wreckage, it looked as if it had an odd discoloration, as if there was a coat of iridescent paint over the twisted metal. Narrowing my eyes, I noticed that the colouring moved, like a shimmering wave. Quickly I realized what shimmered and moved like that.

Turning my head up to Vincent to warn him, I was too late to realize that he knew too, and was ready, he armed himself with a metal bar in one hand and nine-mil in the other. As my eye-line moved back to the wreck- the shimmering wave moved, rushing out us with a sharp buzz that cut the through the air as it came at us.

Praising God and the Stars for the post box, especially since it was unlocked and I didn't have to waste time. I moved Lexie inside, asking him to wait and shut the door. I stood up, drawing out my ten-mil.

The wave screeched in high pitched clicks as it came upon Vincent and I, the wave dispersing, becoming individual creatures. More than three dozen of them flew at us, their iridescent carapaces distorting their true numbers in their attack. "What are they!?" I cried out, shooting one in the face- er mandible.

"They are Radbeetles!" Vincent shouted over the buzzing, squashing one of the beetles, "Mutated from some harmless garden beetle before the war!"

"Harmless!?" I questioned him, as several of the beetles went after the squashed still alive beetle and ripped it apart. "They're not harmless now!" I screamed, shooting a beetle that wanted to give my face a hug. Within seconds we had taken half of the Radbeetles down, however I noticed that they were getting smart. While several tried to distract us by dive-bombing us, the others tried to eat our shines.

I realized the moment one of the ferocious little buggers skittered away in fright when a spark off a bullet set some garbage in the streets on fire.

They were afraid of it.

"Vincent, Flamer!" I yelled, kicking two of bugs off his back.

He looked over his shoulder at me, he threw the pipe over his shoulder to me, "Get by my back." he warned me, holstering his nine-mil and hoisted the Flamer's arm down and let loose a stream of fire. The Radbeetles chattered rapidly, trying desperately to avoid the torrent of fire. The very few that were able to fly out of reach seemed to buzz in anger as the flames set the rest ablaze in a wall of fire. As they were momentarily distracted, I shot the Radbeetles that weren't on fire out of the sky.

Like ash, the remaining of the Radbeetles fell to the ground around Vincent and I, dead before they burned black. Many, already withered as their legs curled inwards against their thoraxes.

Looking up and down the street, I kept my gun ready, hoping there were no more Radbeetles around.

Vincent lowered the Flamer, pushing the arm back into its original position he smiled at me and walked over to the post-box, then tapped on it. "Come out buddy."

Lexie, who was obviously hot from being in a small space for the short time poked out his tongue and wrinkled his nose at the dead Radbeetles. He pointed at them, taking Vincent's knife; he pried several of the dead insects off the ground and put them into the small pack on his back, then handed the knife back to Vincent.

Raising an eyebrow, I shrugged. I wondered about that boy sometimes. Well, considering I had only met him earlier in the day, I felt he was relatively normal. Considering he was mute, shy or the fact he grew up in the wasteland.

Sighing, I followed them to a small building that had a painted display of patrons enjoying ice-cream cones and various goods served inside. Tilting my head up, I read the faded lettering above the rusted screen door.

**Groceries n'goods, **

Last stop to shop before the highway.

No bugs.

My eyes travelled along the small building's facade. It must have been re-painted since the war, as it was a spring green colour and someone had strung lines of fairy lights around a mannequin next to the door. This seemed odd to me.

"G-get away!" a sharp girlish voice squealed, taking a shot at Vince, which was when I snatched Lexie and pulled him away from the doorway and line of fire.

My taller companion swore under his breath and banged in the door. "Bal, keep your damn gun away. Do I look like a roach to you?"

Blinking, I heard someone cough and push the door open. Vince taking one step up onto the entrance way gave a sharp nod, to follow. I held Lexie close and followed them inside.

Inside the store; I had hoped for something nice, maybe a cool drink and a place to sleep that didn't have blood spattered over it. I couldn't say that I was disappointed, more freaked out by what I saw than by what I didn't see. All around were broken cases that were once free-standing ice-coolers, lining the walls were shelves upon shelves of goods that ranged from common place rusted cans, to odd looking boxy objects that looked like guns, but took on a more science-fiction look.

Like something from a pre-war science-fiction movie.

My ear twitched to a sound, glancing to my left was a well reinforced barricade made of assorted junk and metal sheets; which behind sat a man that looked easily old enough to be my father, with an assortment of guns pointed at the door- which were now pointed at me. I looked to Vince, which he gave a shrug and smiled at the twitchy man with interest.

"Vincent, why didn't you give me a sign that it was you? I could have blown a hole in your chest." the man nervously laughed, shifting from foot to foot. His eyes flicked up to the lantern Vincent was still wearing, "Y-you never really light that lantern…"

Vincent gave a nervous laugh, slapping the older man on the shoulder, "Balthazar, you have to stop letting your fears rule you." he smiled and sat down on one of the counters, one of the few that wasn't littered in wares and cash registers.

Balthazar sighed, and then looked at all of us with a waned smile. "So you ah, got here okay? I was worried when you didn't meet me two weeks ago. I even sent several message to Tan-worth."

"Hm, only several?" the younger man mock gasped, "You care that little about me?"

The fidgety man moved his hat and shrugged, "Well how can I not when a friend decides to hang with some new friends with leather jackets." both men eyed each other, a tense moment between them. They both laughed, slapping each on the back and talked about old times and possible business ventures.

With a smile, I decided to let them be and wandered around Balthazar's store, taking a finer eye to the various goods- as this was the first store I had come across since I left my vault.

After inspecting them closer, I realized that the ice-coolers contained dozens of bottles of liquids that were tinted with sickly amber hues with awe-inspiring names like, Midnight and Storm, Ursa Rum and Bitter Queen. My interest was lost sooner after as I took a sniff of the unknown liquids and wrinkled my nose.

Smelt like cleaning solvent.

Placing several bottles back, I wandered past the ice-coolers and perused a shelf with various pre-war books and magazines. As I sifted through the copies, albeit battered copies, there were several that I recognized right away; _Call that a knife _and _Mechanics of stealth_. Not surprisingly, most were of them contained subjects that were not familiar to me.

I smiled, a small square book catching my eye. One that had the well-known figure of the Vault boy, with a small cute baby form on the front. Picking the children's book up, I smiled as I thumbed through the pages, the explanations of people's natural abilities always made me chuckle.

When I was small, I remember sitting in a small play-pen with other toddlers listening to the child-carer of Vault Twenty-Four. He explained how everyone was unique and special, that everyone could be their best they could be if they tried. Of course I believed that. I tried over and over a literally failed at every job allotment in the vault. I think they were just going to put me in administration in the end.

I looked down at the book again with a sigh.

Gently, I placed _You're special_ back on the shelf, giving it one last glance then wandered down the aisle past an almost disturbing amount of coffee cups. Past rows packed with various junk ranging from the normal scrap I had seen around during my short times in the waste, to food in all sorts of forms. It was then that I realized something ridiculous. Why on Earth were there so many clipboards everywhere? I had seen so many in the most absurd places, the odd things was that they did not seemed to be at all that damaged in the near 200 hundred year period of neglect.

With a sigh, I walked over to Vincent and asked him so.

He gave me a funny smile and chuckled, "Clipboards are in such abundance because of the rarity of what they are made of."

I felt a tingle along my neck, looking to my side I saw Lexie brushing a black feather against me. Turning back to Vincent I shrugged, "What are they made of?"

The red head gave me a deadly gaze, "Stubbornium. A rare metal that was discovered in the south-Atlantic oceans about twenty or so years before the war."

What.

Oh, you clever man.

I sighed with smile, "Yes, I heard that soon after the discoverer found another metal called Jackassium."

Balthazar gave a nervous laugh, "Yes, yes, very funny." he clicked his fingers for Vincent's attention, "Back to the matter at hand my boy, could you do that favor?"

He clicked his fingers at the older man, "For one, stop doing that. Two," he turned to me, "Do you want to earn a place to sleep?"

I frowned and looked from face to face. "Doing what exactly?" If it was something insane, I was out. Or at least it would have to wait until tomorrow, while my sense of sanity took a vacation during my waking hours.

Balthazar, as nervous as he seemed, leaned over the counter and propped his elbows up on it and inhaled, "You see, I have ah, a problem." I nodded, "Some Rad-beetles have gotten it in their heads that where I store most of my goods is their new home."

Cogs worked in my head, "So, you want Vincent and I to remove these Radbeetles?" Balthazar shrugged; something in his face hinted something else. "How come you haven't done this yourself?"

The trader blanched and coughed, murmuring something about beds and crawling Radbeetles.

Vincent sighed and placed his hand on his friend's shoulder, which set him at ease. ""See, Bal here has a phobia of Radbeetles, ever since his was a kid. He offered us a place to stay for free, but seeing as how the Red Belly's stole what I was meant to bring down from Tan-Worth for him, I reckoned I owed him for that."

I gave him a warm smile, he was a good guy. "Okay Balthazar, we'll take care of the problem tomorrow." I held out my hand, "It's a contract."

Taking my hand, Balthazar genuinely smiled and showed us to one of several rooms at the back of his store, specifically one with a bunk bed for the night. I hoped that the job for him wasn't too hard.

"Ahhhhhhhh, it's on fire!" I screamed as for the third time as a row of metal shelving came down and nearly took my head off, its contents raining fire down all around me.

"I told you to watch out Amb's, there are Mr. Handy's everywhere in here." Vincent reminded me over the speakers.

"Really? I had not noticed the hovering orbs of blades and fire!" I cried out, running around one of said murder orbs as it decided that I needed my organs aerated. I ducked, running into a maze of shelves, containers and boxes, getting turned around with each second.

When we took Balthazar's offer, neither Vincent or I had thought that there were robots in the massive storage shed.

_"Your sun shall fall scum of Japan!" _a distorted authoritative voice roared behind me, turning, I did the only thing I could think of, and started to climb. I scrabbled up as fast as I could, cursing under my breath for my sheer stupidity.

When Vincent and I entered the somewhat dilapidated ruins of the old farming warehouse across from the fuel station, my companion had chuckled at the name of the warehouse; **_Golden Granaries _**_warehouse, we collect head and are head of the industry. _I didn't get what was so funny, until he explained it that it could be seen by some as an innuendo.

I had glared at him as we passed into the warehouse under several deactivated turrets, simply believing that the Radbeetles had chewed the wiring or something simple as that. Of course we were both entirely wrong on that account. No sooner had we entered the ground floor of the warehouse, we got a few glances at some lumpy looking hives on the walls, security had activated.

We had run into the nearest room to avoid the activated robots from killing us. Luckily, the nearest room had been the warehouse's security station. Vincent examined the terminal, saying that there were only the normal logs, updates and that he had no way to shut the robots, nor could he shut the turrets that had activated outside

"The last log was made by one of the mechanics; he said that the robots went crazy from an electrical discharge when an experimental harvester blew up." Vincent read aloud from the terminal, "He couldn't't do anything as all robots in the vicinity had killed the workers and security on the main floor. He got into this room, trying to shut them down, but he didn't have the proper ID card, which the security officer who died by the grain bins near the offices did."

We concluded that we had no way to shut anything off without that card, which was a draw-back. On the upside, one of the updates had told us that something had severed the internal security friend-or-foe identifiers, meaning the Radbeetles had chewed into the cables or made nests inside one of the security terminals. For the next few minutes we had spent taking off the back of terminals and inspected the internal components and killed any Radbeetles that popped out.

After that, we tried to think of a way to get out of the security room without getting electrical burns or death from the half-a-dozen security robots that were either patrolling the floor or shooting at the sealed and blocked door behind us. That was when I made a bad mistake, after shucking on a spare low-grade security uniform I had found in a cabinet, I had decided to go out of the room while Vince became my eyes and ears, talking to me from the speakers.

I had jumped from the open window and grabbed onto one of the heavy chains that hung from the vaulted ceiling and swung onto the nearest catwalk. I had rolled and stood running down the catwalk and into the offices- which by my Pip-Boy told me that I had to go through a maze of broken rooms which had nothing but a few bottles caps and some delicious Butterscotch candies. I was lucky enough to avoid two of the walking robots that spoke in tinny voices and snuck into the staff bathroom.

The building was so dark I was lucky that I found a capsule bottle of some small tablets called Cat-Eye. It gave me an advantage as I went around in the dark, tricking the two Protectrons- as what my Pip-Boy labelled them in my HUD and kicked them off a broken catwalk. With my confidence up, I had made my way through the remaining office and walked along the catwalks carefully- not knowing how steady they would be after two hundred years of wear.

That was when a flying monstrosity of a Mr. Handy had come at me, screaming death and started shooting electric green globs of plasma at me. With the catwalk blocked by another Protectron, I ran down a staircase, effectively the level above where Vincent was below and jumped, grabbing yet another chain and slid down to ground level. Right then was when another Mr. Handy had streamed fire at me for encroaching on its space and fled to the top of containers, panting for breath as the Mr. Handy continued it's military style rant at me below.

_"The Sun shall die under the righteousness of the Stars!" _it blared, shooting at me hopelessly as I hid behind a metal beam, which was gaining in temperature and warming my back.

"Ambi, you could try shooting it you know." Vincent advised me from my right.

I looked up at him and pointed at the robot below me, "You want me to shoot that? If you remember, I don't have a shot-gun! We sold most of the gear we got from the Red Belly's to Balthazar and you have the shot-gun! Not to mention we left the SMG with Lexie!" I groaned.

_"Fiery hell for those of the rising sun!" _the Mr. Handy blared, taking my attention as he activated his flame thrower, heating the beam further.

My right eye twitched, "I have had enough out of you!" I yelled, and started to throw whatever I had around me, which were mostly metal tools and equipment. Most of the blunt objects just bounced off it, but heavier objects dented its aged casing and a buzz-saw jammed between the seams, piercing something vital within. Effectively killing the Mr. Handy. It crashed to the floor in a heap as I growled at it. "Now stay down!"

My heart pumping, I heard movement above me. Looking up, I saw that the remaining two robots were milling about the catwalk looking for new targets or me. Looking around, I smiled, spotting a hook on a chain and a remote connected to it via a long cord. I grabbed the control and climbed a little up a nearby chain. When I was up a couple of feet, I tapped the one of the direction buttons, and rose the hook to the catwalk's level then tapped the control switch, activating the rails above, moving the hook.

The hook snagged the catwalk, tearing at the metal with an air splitting a screech, I hung on for dear life to the other chain and grinned as the hook tore the railing away and smashed into the far wall, imbedding in the brick wall. The metal fell to floor as I tried to pull the hook back to me, which didn't work at all. I sighed, letting the control drop down, I moved dropped down to a catwalk below, trying to keep quiet as walked up the next catwalk above. I was above the Mr. Handy, when Vincent decided to talk again-

"Ambi, don't do what I think you are going to do," he advised, "That's just crazy."

My answer was jumping off the catwalk onto the Mr. Handy, "Death from above!" I screamed, grabbing the spindly arm that held a buzz-saw.

_"Ambush! The Sun's are attacking!_" the Mr Handy screamed as I straddled it, turning it's saw on the Protectron that decided was a good time to raise its arms to shoot me.

The blades tore into the helpless robot, it's tinny words turning into static and nonsense as I destroyed what I hoped was where it's cognitive functions were located, _"Trespassers will be- shoooowwwwwtttttttt-" _was all the poor machine got to say before It fell to the floor in a heap, a resounding metal clang rung in the air.

That was when the catwalk added a delightful sound of groaning metal under stress.

I knew the Mr. Handy had an advantage and that I had seconds to act.

I grunted, pushing the blade down, hacking the buzz-saw into the floating orbs hover components and cried out in joy as it slumped to the lurching catwalk still spurting nonsense. I had leapt off it before it fell, jumping back I ran across the catwalk, which one end where the hook tore through had started breaking apart, panting as I ran, I went wide eyed as the catwalk section broke free. Jumping at the last second, the tip of my toe just missed the catwalks edge in front of me. Of course my toe touching the edge would not make a difference at all, just made me get annoyed at the smidgen miss.

My body plunged down, air screaming from my lungs as I expected to have metal tear into my body, or break my back on the ground of containers as Vincent swore over the speakers then said something I didn't hear as I thumped down and was swallowed by darkness. Audible clicks moved around me, I believed that the Radbeetles were going to kill me, maybe eat me alive as I lay unmoving and bleeding.

An ominous clicking repeated over and over in my ears, the Radbeetles were going to kill me. I hoped to bleed out before they got to me. I closed my eyes as surprisingly strange warmth surrounded me.

With an odd restrained slowness, I reached out my hand to where ever Vincent was a final action of acknowledgement in my brief time of the wastes. At least I had helped someone in the waste land and didn't die on my first day.

I died on my second.

Death wasn't as bad as I thought. It was warm, comfortable, but I thought Heaven was meant to smell good! It stank like rotted cow meat mixed with back-up toilet refuse. I took a breath, the smell was choking me, I couldn't move. Where ever I was, kept sucking me backwards when I tried to move my legs down to push myself upwards. After a few seconds, I felt something tug at my fingers then grasp my hand firmly and yank my towards whatever it was.

I saw light and cried out as a torch held between someone's teeth burned my eyes. They spat the torch out onto the metal flooring next to them as I rubbed my eyes, they pulled me onto the flooring gently. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I looked up and saw a smiling Vincent crouching next to me. "Are all people from your vault as crazy as you?" he whispered, worry in his eyes.

I coughed, looking to what I had fallen in. Before me there were several large containers, several were sealed shut and were where the Mr Handy, Protectron and catwalk section had crashed down. Luckily the one I had been above had been open and saved me. But looking closer, I realized that I had fallen into a 200 hundred year old container of several-times spoiled wheat that stank to high heaven.

Vincent muttered something about going to get me a wet cloth or something to wipe the rotted muck away. By then I wasn't paying attention. I watched him pick up something off the floor that was wedged under the metal flooring I was on watched him walk out of view until I heard the tell-tall sound of him walking further away.

Looking down, I saw what he meant- I was covered in a slimy, mouldy mess. I gagged and heaved, vomiting onto the catwalk. As my dinner dripped down a small break in the metal, I started to cry in the dark.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Vincent asked me softly, from somewhere above me. "Is it the smell?"

I hadn't even realized he had come back. I continued to cry as he gently pulled me up, cleaning my face with a cool damp rag and helped me lose the security barding and helmet- throwing them into the long-forgotten wheat containers. "That better?" he asked, giving me a hopeful smile, which I replied with more blubbering.

He sighed softly as he lead me back to the security station and sat me down in a chair in front of me. "Okay, why are you crying? Were you afraid of the robots?" I shook my head, "Of me not coming back?" I hadn't thought of that, but I just shook my head again.

I raised my Pip-Boy, which I had thought to cover before I activated the hook- I showed Vincent the audio logs of Jack. I wasn't sure how long I sat there crying about a long dead man; feeling completely drained over a man who had seen a good life then because of war lost everything.

I felt ashamed and gut-wrenched for being so petty. I envied him for being dead before the true horrors rose from the ashes of war. To know such horror from what people in his generation older caused.

The red haired man let out a slow breath and put a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it softly. "Amb's, he held up several glass bottles, the Cat-eyes still active in my system, created a glare from the light of his Pip-Boy against the bottles. He tapped his Pip-Boy, turning the light off. As the light died, he clinked the bottles again and a small lying smile crossed my lips.

He held a trio of Roseman's most famous drink; Cherry flavored delight in a bottle.

Still with the liars face, I took them and put them into my pack, "T-thank you…" I whispered softly, not wanting him to understand what I truly wanted. I wanted Jack to have not lost his wife and son. I wanted so badly for a life of the past to be one without such pain, for the farmer to at least escape to a life with his family alive. If only that life was one in a vault.

To survive.

Sniffling, I stood shakily, vaguely nodding as Vincent told me that he had taken care of the remaining Radbeetles, destroyed their nests and deactivated the exterior turrets while I had taken my time to cry. Those were not his exact words, but in the context of my fragile outburst, it felt right to me. As he turned away from me, he hauled his pack onto his shoulders; I noticed that there were no skeletons in the security station anymore. I looked around, not spotting any others around anymore. Maybe Vincent knew just how weak I was.

How naïve I was to think I could handle the wasteland, let alone handle a day without the broken skeletal remains of the long dead and forgotten before me. I trudged after him towards Groceries and go, with my head down, a cold bundle curling in on its self in my chest. To grant some respite to our bodies and minds, if only so brief. It was then and there I pushed the idea in my mind that the wasteland would not take me. If only momentarily.

The smallest of smiles touched my lips.

I would try to try.

Once again I had woken, just before dawn. The filtered light of poison eked down from a high window above me, the many dust motes dancing before my eyes. I sneezed; rubbing my eyes from the hours of sleep I had obtained between arriving at Groceries and Go the first time and when I returned with Vincent.

I had felt emotionally and physically drained, some might count getting drugged by Vincent as sleep. However I knew that drugged unconsciousness was not sleep at all. Just induced momentary peace. Most cases, unconsciousness never gave me peace, just nightmares and blinks between being awake and days.

My nightmares had been something mildly interesting, if not disturbing. I had laid awake listening to Lexie's soft breathing above me, a reassuring noise in the dark, that all was normal. That I could close my eyes and pretend I was sleeping in my sister's apartment after a night of chess and board games, so tired to move, only lucid enough to keep awake and listen to soft reassurances of not being alone in the almost darkness of a vault.

The nightmares gave me images of Melody's singing cresting and making my ears bleed. My sister's and Gaspar leaving me to drown in swaths of wasteland terror, spattered droplets of blood dripping onto my face. Soft whispers of Jene, accusing me of failing my duties, my moral code. Nathan holding me, a gaping hole three-foot wide blasted into his chest, his eyes dead and cold as stone. Vincent smiling, letting my hand go as Raiders surrounded us.

In the end leaving me tied to a mannequin, the viscera and blood of children falling onto my face as Radbeetles and Radroaches devoured me alive. The Overseer, a cold look with a satisfied grin, reminding me that all in the vault were disposable to serve the vault, that I was the 'reject' of all genetics. Finally before I awoke in a mess, my mother looking at me in sad grief, whispering that she could not help me more than she could. That her choices for me were never hers to decide.

With a deep sigh I twitched, wiping back hair from my sweaty brow. Tilting my head I heard two voices in the front room, the room where Balthazar showed his trade goods and hysterical gun action. Shifting in the bed, I moved onto my feet and tip-toed across the scratched floorboards.

"When are you moving on?" the familiar nigh baritone voice of Balthazar asked. To who I assumed would be Vincent, as he was nowhere in the same room as I.

A shuffling of papers on the other side of the door, "Well, soon enough. I have to get Lexie back home." A sharp tapping and the sound of shifting footsteps. "Yes Lexie, you can say goodbye before we go, I have to get going before the sun is up or I'll have to take the long way to Tan-Worth- through the Digger-Bolt Mine fields."

"No one wants that Vincent, especially not me." Balthazar sighed, "But, what about Ambi? What are her plans?"

I heard a long pause, "I think she's just a traveller, someone who doesn't truly know where to be." Vincent sighed deeply. "She talked in her sleep last night. I think she's missing family." something in his voice echoed pain of his own past, of things I did not know, nor deserved to ask about.

Balthazar chuckled softly, "Something tells me you might know a thing or two about her family. Am I right?"

I smiled. For a man of such nervous demeanour, he sure knew what people meant and could perceive very discreet meanings in actions.

"I heard through Astral, that some vault dwellers were seen near Gathering Water recently. I just want you to keep your feelers out for any information about them. That's all."

"Is that all? Or are you hoping she will follow you back home to Tan-Worth?"

Something- that sounded fleshy slammed against the counter with a thump. "I am not letting her follow me Bal." Vincent whispered in clenched teeth. By this time, I had pushed the rotted door open a crack.

I watched Balthazar flinch on instinct, his body steeling up as his posture screamed Í want to run!' conflicting with his eyes, 'Please, my dear friend, calm down.' as Lexie raised his hands, rubbing the older male's back- which was rippling with tense muscles and tendons. "No one is saying you are Vincent," he whispered softly, his voice cracking, "I'll keep tabs on information about her family okay. You'll know as soon as I get anything."

Lexie smiled up at Vincent, he surprised the man by wrapping his arms around his middle and hugged him close. With a mega-watt smile he mouthed 'Don't be sad, you always have me, Bal and Astral looking out for you.'

Vincent smiled and tussled the young boys hair, "What would I do without you or Bal?" he laughed lightly, as he leaned over the counter switching on a battered looking radio, switching on some God-awful tripe about pre-war petrol sales. "Bal, why do you keep it on the adverts station? Most of it is from before the war- which you know by heart." Vincent mumbled as he turned the knob on the radio's top, going through streams of static until he came to what he was looking for.

The older man laughed, putting down several coffee cups beside him, "I enjoy the current prices, so I can establish a market of value."

Lexie made a raspberry sound as he pulled himself up onto the counter and sat back with a broad smile.

Bal looked back at the boy and frowned, "Oh yes, I enjoy Astral too, I just think that knowing economic balance is something worthwhile for society."

Vincent moved to Lexie's side and leaned back against the counter, "well, that is your opinion Bal. But it's boring as hell."

Balthazar just threw up his hands and spoke something in a language I didn't know until Vincent told him to stop swearing in French and enjoy Astral for once.

I didn't even have a few seconds to think, to decide whether or not it was time to join them before a sweet- a heavenly delicious voice filled the other room. A voice that was borderline an addictive sound, smoother and richer than any delectable divine chocolate that dare have the name as sweet.

The voice didn't even sound like anyone I had ever heard before, but oddly, the accent felt familiar.

"The faithful listeners of _'Chandelier of Stars'_ airwaves, I bid you good morning at this early hour. I do apologise if my preaching's arose you from slumber most divine."

"Hm, seems they switched today." Balthazar mumbled, and turned towards the built-in sink, and went to work cleaning out the coffee cups.

"Of course I do so with good reason, "Astral chuckled, "But what would your radio be on for, if not to listen to me and mine? Today I bring morning news about the South-Wastes. It seems that the South-Waste has had something to perk up from the recent conflicts along the Blue Oil range." the gorgeous baritone-bass voice of Astral chimed, "Everyone knows of those damned hell-spawn Red Belly's have been eating everyone out of house and home?"

"Yes, yes, literally." Vincent sighed, shaking his shaggy hair.

"Well seems some Vaultie got it up in her head that these hissers needed something to rattle their imperfect nests. Reports are that the young-girl took out a couple of the raider bases on her own, and get this, saved some children too. Which, is of course a class-act in anyone's book."

My eyebrow twitched. I hadn't down that on my own, why wasn't Vince mentioned? Why wasn't the fact he had killed them, that I hadn't done anything at all? I sighed and grumbled as the broadcast continued.

"In other news, anyone tromping around Gathering water, watch out for a small girl with gold hair, because if you irk her, she will not hesitate in the slightest to kick you from here to Uluru. As for the Vaultie, about time a ranger came down on this hell hole of the wastes. And I don't mean the Southern Cross Rangers or the Obsidian Diggers; I am talking about the old stories of Kelly, the lone ranger long before the Great War. Good luck Ranger."

My eyes nearly balked out of their sockets; I wasn't a ranger! What the honey-butt was a ranger?! I huffed and leant forward, placing my head on the aged doorframe.

"So, now you're up?" a cheery voice assaulted my ears. Looking up, I saw Vincent holding out a cup of something- coffee most likely and handed it to me. I took it, with a smile and shrugged. "So heard the end of Astral's show?" I nodded and took a sip of the foul black liquid, tasted so bad. "Well, that wasn't Astral."

An eyebrow rose up, if that was not Astral, then who was it? "Who was that then?"

Balthazar stroked his stubbly chin, "Well, Astral does that show with a man named something incredibly pretentious. Infinite something." he looked to Vincent for help, "Infinite Dream?"

The red haired man beside me shrugged, "Infinite Revansky?"

I was sure that wasn't a word.

And I was sure they were pulling my leg.

"No," Bal raised a hand, his eyes shining with realization, "Infinite Fans!"

Lexie rolled his eyes, tugging on Vincent's shirt, "Yes, we shouldn't tease her." he looked to me with a smile.

I blinked; "Tease me?" how were they teasing me?

Vincent smiled, waving his hand at me, "His name is a little pretentious, and a bit weird. But considering I have met people called 'Trash' and 'Bolt-cutter' which are some of the more Raider/Slaver/Bandit 'sheik' in the wastes. Aegis Eyrie is not that bad."

_What? _His name was Aegis… Aegis Eyrie?

I hung my head with a grin, "So, high above a shield? I would think, 'High above where I speak truth with lies mixed in.' would be an adequate summary of him." of course I felt a little bit annoyed someone having a name so arrogant. Then again my mother had given me a name that was insane as a talking dog solving mysteries.

…and I was a little bit sad about being so quick to doubt a well-known voice in the wastes. Implying my own misguided thoughts, without understanding all I can before daring to judge. Judge lest ye not be judged.' as my dear Belle would quote to me. She enjoyed religious services, always attending the Vault preacher's sermons, investigation various religious ways and traditions. Though, her twin did not.

Clarisse preferred to stick to her security practices, combat examples, designated patrols and her odd knowledge of medical problems with a single glance.

With a sigh, I turned to Vincent with a smile, "Don't start calling me Ranger." I turned to Lexie, giving the adorable youth a stare of doom. "And no, even you cannot." He gave me a pout, "Nope. Not happening."

He continued to stare, putting out his lower lip, trembling.

Sweat trickled down my back, his piteous big green eyes staring at me- oh God; make the adorable doe-eyed boy stop! Candy, mother, God! Whatever you want, stop looking at me like that! I blushed and took the aboriginal child in my arms and hugged him close.

Balthazar and Vincent chuckled; they dared to laugh at the power of a child? A child with cuteness that could be a weapon if turned evil? "No one can resist Lexie-stare."

Lexie leaned his head up and smiled, flashing surprisingly white teeth at me, "Yes, he is something else." I smiled and closed my eyes, momentarily forgetting the world.

Maybe being Ranger would be okay.

In some way at least.

"Oh!" Balthazar exclaimed from behind his counter, lightly smacking his forehead. "I thanked Vincent for your services, but for the life of me I could not just let you wander out of here without something as thanks. I watched the near middle-aged man rummage through boxes upon boxes until he pulled out a small locked metal crate roughly double the size of a lunchbox and a rolled up scroll of white and blue paper.

He handed me the paper scroll as he propped the peeling crate on the counter, uncurling the scroll, I saw that it was a schematic how to make something called a 'Net launcher'. I rolled it back again with a grin. I had all the pieces to assemble the Net-gun, or I recognised that many of the pieces could be found easily or bought. I even had a nifty utility belt for tools I wanted on hand. Even if the utility belt didn't come with a tool kit.

Vincent had advised me to find some in my spare time, which would be good for crafting this funny after war oddity. I was lucky that Balthazar had some belts to sell me in the first place. Well, that would be lying, I didn't buy one per say. I wanted to buy one, but he insisted on giving it to me for free. I snuck some caps into his fridge in the back room.

I wasn't one for not paying when due.

Tilting my head, I yawned, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and continued to watch Balthazar, he was fiddling with a key from a chain on his neck, he opened the box and rummaged inside, gingerly moving aside several small figurines of Vault boy. Each had a wide grin and crafted in a unique way.

"What's with the collection?" I asked, as he pulled out near two dozen of the smiling mascots.

Balthazar smiled as he moved several more aside, "They were limited release in America before the war. My family has always taken to collecting them. A few were released strictly in Australia after the formation of the Australian Vault-Tec branch." he continued as he started pulling out small bags that jingled, "As far as I know, there were only sets given to the four company heads of the Australian branch."

Vincent tapped the countertop beside him, "Hmmm, I know one of the heads was related to one of the Bureau leaders."

Balthazar nodded as he pulled out several small bags of caps, each numbering from 25 caps up to 100 cap bundles; he slide over the payment of the weapons and junk we sold him the previous day; which was about 963 caps. After dividing the caps among ourselves, I noticed Lexie playing with some caps on an old checker board.

I turned to the red haired man beside me, "Heading out soon?"

He nodded, "As soon as we are done here, but I think Balthazar wants you to stick around for a little while." Vincent smiled. He gave my shoulder a pat, and strolled out of the store with Lexie at his side.

I hoped then and there that I would someday see them both again.

I looked to Balthazar, who was grinning with a smile that reached just below his eyes. In his hands he held a bundle of red cloth, which he handed it to me gingerly. I held the swath of crushed velvet in my hands, blinking at the soft texture and lowered the bundle gently onto the countertop and unfolded the fabric. The fabric slid away, like water over metal, revealing a figurine of a man with startling red- almost ruby red hair and an easy-going smile accompanied by a delightful butterfly perched on his raised hand.

Quite unlike the cartoon depiction of the Vault-Tec mascot, this one was lifelike, as if it was waiting to move around before me and explore the world. Oddly, it seemed more alive or equal to the man before me. Looking up from the soft determined smile of the figurine, I looked at Balthazar, my face gouged into a frown. "Who is this?"

He smiled, and turned the statue around for me to see; on the base like the Vault-Tec bobble heads, this little figurine had some engraved too. _'Never give up.' _I glanced at the detailed almost animated face of the statue, his soft brown eyes daring me to challenge him, to get in his way and dare stop him from being himself. I poked his hair, his cool styled hair.

It was as if he was gifted with the natural flip look of tussled hair by a light breeze non-existent.

I looked back up at the eager trader before me, waiting for my reply. "Why are you giving this to me?" I was taken by surprise when the old man gently cupped his hand over my own. A dull ache burned into me, a yearning for a lost figure in my life. Of someone important, a memory of feint loss and disgust.

Balthazar gingerly held the figurine in his other hand, "This figurine will remind you, remind you never to stop believing in yourself, of the good you do." he smiled and let my hand free and swathed the figurine back into the cloth, then carefully handed the red bundle to me.

With a shy smile, I nodded and walked over to the backroom to place the figurine into my pack. Which was resting on my temporary bunk with the duffel bag of Jack's bones? Standing over my pack, I realised that the possession of this statue- this figurine of oddities, made me feel happy. Happy and full of energy to help others and take on my troubles with my head held high, with confidence in my heart and new words of reassurance in my head.

My smile broadened as I snapped my pack shut, I hoped badly that I could be just as confident and stalwart as the Caucasian ruby haired mystery figurine. It wasn't that I needed more trouble; it was that I needed to be able to handle what I could. To be confident in myself and able to stand alone if need be.

Unsure of my future, I assembled the Net-gun, with help from a certain man obsessed with Radbeetles. In short time, the Steam-gauge fused with wonder glue to a small welded together cooking pot, tubes and a shocking twist of my own idea- dismantled EMP bullets and grenades. Which Balthazar was thrilled at, and was going to make his own and adapt it to a trap above his door in case he got abused by Radbeetles or Raiders sometime in the future.

After pondering the bonus of unique weapons, I decided that the disadvantage of the Net-Gun was my inability to assemble the electric nets on my own. What little repairing skill I had, I could make bad woven nets, but my skill with EMP grenades or anything with science involved was not good at all. I sighed; maybe I could enlist someone to help me later with the problem.

Old chains with weighted ends would work just as well. It would be smart to change ammo type, to conserve what little I did have. With a half-hearted sigh, I pulled my pack onto my shoulders, adjusting it between my shoulder blades. Satisfied with the weight, I picked up the moth-eaten military duffel back and walked back to the front room, stopping at the counters.

"Goodbye for now Balthazar." I beamed, my less than clean hair bouncing on my shoulders.

The curious near middle-aged man smiled, tipping his odd hat as I wandered out the door and back into the South-Wastes, not knowing what I would take on next.

**Footnote: Level up!**

**New Perk: **Run and gun, when shooting at a moving target, your accuracy has improved

**Unique Items;** Figurine obtained, +1 to Charisma skill.


End file.
